


I'm serious

by olle



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Insecurity, Jealousy, Music, No Plot/Plotless, Oblivious, Realistic, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smoking, Some Plot, Super boring probably but I guess that's my aesthetic, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olle/pseuds/olle
Summary: I’m seriousMy eyes say that I like youWhy don’t you feel it?My face is so obviousYT Playlist: https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0OxJ6QuT2hHrLYTG84KuSTdCWoH2UqTJI've been in some strange kind of emotional distress over many of their lyrics lately,just kind of feeling for Young K,and I'm in love with Dowoon like everyone else,so this is just me being melancholic and whiny.I also have a routine of never finishing anything I start,but this is so far platonic slice of life in the Trilogy™ AU where Dowoon is still a quiet rich kid who just wants to be left alone and Younghyun is still a misunderstood bastard who kinda just wants someone to be friends with.As you read, please imagine Stephen Fry reading this out loud. Because why not.The title is temporary
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Dowoon came to a halt.

Before him was the sky, large bundles of clouds slowly passing against the blue canvas.

The hills and valleys made of square rooftops, reaching as far as the eye could see.

And someone leaning against the fence, facing but not seeing him.

The loner. The edgy kid.

Dowoon made a move as if to turn back, but hesitated. He pondered for a while, thinking, and finally made for the other side.

He sat down on the concrete floor, placing his bag beside him, opening and searching it.

Something small, white and rectangular was laid before his feet and for a moment he just looked at it, before meeting the eyes of the other boy.

He didn't say anything. Blinked once, confusion across his face.

"It's banana milk."

Dowoon looked at the box again, then at the boy, who smiled, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"You drink it. Normally."

The boy sat down in front of him, rested his eyes on their surroundings.

"I'm Kang Younghyun."

A few seconds passed, and Dowoon's eyes passed between his bag, the banana milk box and the boy's face.

Then he leaned forward and picked the milk package up. He observed it closely, turning it once to read.

He opened and tasted it. He wore no expression but thoughtfulness.

"Yoon Dowoon."

The boy turned his face toward him and shone with expression.

"I know. Did you escape your fanclub, finally?"

Dowoon blinked, thinking still.

"Mm."

"Man, it's fucked up how they treat you. You're like a God or something. Like Jesus Christ himself. Amen!"

Younghyun fished out a package of cigarettes, picked one out and lit it with a match.

Then he offered it to Dowoon.

"I– I don't smoke." he said simply, and had some more milk.

"Of course you don't." Younghyun chuckled and leaned back on his free arm.

Dowoon tilted his head, observing as Younghyun sucked at the thing.

"Do you go here to smoke?"

"Amongst other things."

"Hm." Dowoon's eyes trailed off.

"This is also where I keep my bomb plans. So if you're gonna be here, you gotta join my terrorist gang."

Dowoon met his eyes, a frown scrunching his nose and eyebrows in disbelief.

Younghyun laughed at him.

"You don't talk much,"

Dowoon looked down at his milk package—

"i like that."

—then locked eyecontact again.

Younghyun still had a smile on him. There was something very amused about it, something almost knowing. His fierce and sharp features made him look kind of like a fox or a cat.

Dowoon blinked at him again. Blinked, and thought.

"You gonna come here again?"

Dowoon shrugged as he sipped his milk, finishing it.

"Well," Younghyun began. "I don't mind. Open for business 24/7!"

"You are not usually like this."

"What?"

"You don't usually smile."

"Excuse you?" Younghyun's eyebrows rose. "Don't you know I'm the most popular fella in this shitty school!"

Dowoon stared at him in bewilderment.

"Everyone here fucking loves me! They just don't know it yet!"

"You're weird."

"Weird?! Then you're mean!"

Dowoon sighed and folded the empty package. He gathered his bag, closed it and rose to his feet.

"Yeah."

Then he walked toward the door.

Younghyun observed, something between a grin and confusion upon his face.

"Bastard..." he whispered to himself, taking another drag of his cigarette in the sunlight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe I wrote more.
> 
> This is so slow though,
> 
> you're welcome.

The wind was chilly and clouds dark, filling the sky, with only little gaps of sunshine peaking out here and there.

  
Still, Younghyun was lying on the concrete, looking up at his phone, browsing music that was blasting through his headphones with one hand,

  
cigarette in the other.

  
He didn't hear someone coming through the door this time, so when a dark silhouette came into his field of view, he was almost startled.

  
He glanced at him, smirked and sat up.

  
"Didn't think you'd visit me again after I called you mean."

  
Dowoon shrugged lightly.

  
"I called you weird."

  
"And I certainly hope you're here to apologise!" Younghyun raised his eyebrows seriously.

  
Dowoon thought about it.

  
"But you are weird."

  
Younghyun looked nearly scandalised.

  
"Ya'know, you should encourage people's strengths— not stomp on their weaknesses!"

  
"I don't know you."

  
"Did you just come here to roast me?"

  
Dowoon looked at him for a good couple of seconds.

  
Then his lips and eyes nose and eyebrows were screwed up - ever so slightly - in a small smile.

  
"It's not an insult." he said, finally, turning to look away as he lowered himself to sit beside Younghyun.

  
Younghyun, who searched him with his eyes.

  
"Hey, you're–" he paused and chuckled. "You're really kind of sweet, ain't ya? You're a fucking tsundere!"

  
"What?"

  
"Tsundere! Ah, never mind."

  
Dowoon blinked at him.

  
"You– ugh. You act cold but behind the mask you're warm. That's tsundere."

  
Dowoon thought about that for a while.

  
"Then so are you, hyung."

  
"Nah, I'm just done."

  
Dowoon seemed to not understand what Younghyun was getting at.

  
"You like people, right? You actually care. That's why you don't tell your fangirls to just fuck off. But anything gets exhausting after a while, so now you're just kind of... enduring it."

  
Dowoon was keeping his eyes on the ground before them. His ears were a little warm at being called out.

  
He didn't say anything.

  
"I'm right, though, ain't I? You're nice. Whereas I'm a fuckin' bastard with zero conscience nor respect for person or thing." Younghyun said as it if were a merit.

  
"You gave me banana milk." Dowoon pointed out, making Younghyun's face still.

  
"Ah– speaking of which,"

  
He took something from beside him and left it where Dowoon was looking.

  
A small, white rectangular package.

  
Dowoon bowed, slowly and only a little, before taking it in his hand.

  
They sat in silence for a while. Younghyun finished his cigarette and Dowoon his milk.

  
"Ya'know," Younghyun began slowly. "a week ago, I was sure everyone in this garbage school hated me."

  
He stood up, brushing the dust off his trousers.

  
"But I'm kinda beginning to think you don't, Yoon Dowoon."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm soppy.

"Won't be back until Thursday. Buy yourself anything you need!"

  
Dowoon looked at the note for a while, observing the handwriting. Neat but still... rushed. No time, gotta go. As usual.

  
He left it on the table, where it lay beside a bulky envelope.

  
His jaw was clenched.

  
Dowoon laced his shoes, grabbed his bag and locked the door, walking into the drizzle.

  
***

  
The light from the convenience store was almost blinding in the darkness of the night, even with all the street lights around.

  
The sunset had been some hour ago and he'd watched it through the window of the music room.

  
His steps were slow but steady, counting with his fingers.

  
"Yah! Dowoon-ah! Yoon Dowoon!"

  
Dowoon stilled, turned. No expression. Hands still held at waist height.

  
Younghyun was jogging, the wind catching his fringe and shirt. His smile brighter than ever.

  
"I thought it was you," he breathed heavily as he came near. "What you doin' here?"

  
Dowoon turned to look at the shop, then back.

  
"Ah–"

  
Younghyun tilted his head a little, frowned.

  
"You live nearby?"

  
Dowoon shook his head.

  
"It's close to where I practice."

  
"Practice?"

  
Dowoon glanced at him, ears somewhat warm.

  
"Drums."

  
"Drums? How cool is that! You in a band or something?"

  
"No, I just... play."

  
"Huh. Well, I've never seen you here before."

  
Now it was Dowoon's turn to give him a confused look.

  
"Oh, I work here." Younghyun gestured. "In there."

  
"Since when?"

  
"Few weeks ago. You comin'? I'm kinda late–"

  
Younghyun paced on, and Dowoon followed him first with his eyes, then the rest.

  
***

  
"Uh, that'll be 23'998 won." Younghyun began placing the groceries in a plastic bag, then handed it to Dowoon.

  
"Oh, and wait–" he hurried around the counter and to the back of the shop.

  
He retured with something. Something small and white.

  
"You're allowed to do that?"

  
"I'll put it on my salary."

  
Yonnghyun grinned with his whole face.

  
Dowoon stared at the milk box in his hand.

  
"Thank you, hyung."

  
He bowed, but remained still.

  
Younghyun's smile weakened into something wondering.

  
Dowoon didn't meet his eyes.

  
"Why... why do you give me these?"

  
Younghyun did not seem to comprehend the question at all.

  
"I–"

  
His face was blank.

  
"I don't know. Feels right. You don't like them?"

  
"I do." Dowoon replied quickly. Then "I do.", slower.

  
Younghyun smiled again, a small one.

  
"Then drink up. See you in school, Drum."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: wow i accidentally wrote this in present time but whatever
> 
> Ok, firstly-
> 
> where is all this inspiration coming from??
> 
> And secondly, I'm sorry, Wonpil, it don't want to hurt you but this is just how it is. For now.
> 
> Also, I've loved playing piano since I was little but I've never written about it... so this was incredibly soothing for me.
> 
> I still don't have a plan for this fic, just using it as emotional trashcan or something. But please enjoy this beautiful angst.

The white and black keys make soft thumping noises as they're being pressed down, one by one. It's barely audible over the mighty tones they deliver, but can be felt through the little vibrations in the wood.

  
The tune is joyous, carefree and simple. Not famous, not really known at all. Perhaps new altogether. But somehow familiar. Somehow essential.

  
Wonpil plays with passion all over his face, knitting his eyebrows together and eyes closed.

  
He knows the piano by touch, letting his fingers decide which keys to push next. It looks easy, looks as if he's done it all his life.

  
Sungjin shakes his head at his friend.

  
"What song is that even?"

  
The music stops abruptly and Wonpil seems to return to Earth, large eyes blinking repeatedly.

  
"I dunno. I'm jamming, hyung!"

  
He plays a little ragtime jingle and smiles brightly, foolishly, while Sungjin sighs, looking as if he's just about had it.

  
He returns his attention to the acoustic guitar on his lap, tuning it toward utter perfection. Somehow never perfect enough.

  
They have the music room all to themselves on days like these. Everyone else is studying. Which they really ought to, too, had they not been so easily swayed by their shared hobby.

  
They play together a little, rock this time, and it sounds quite groovy, quite professional.

  
Wonpil can't stop himself from laughing happily and sneaks a quiet glance of his hyung.

  
Sungjin's eyes are closed and his face is focused, picking at the strings with intent and precision.

  
Wonpil's jaw clenches.

  
His heart thumps a little faster.

  
***

  
"We should start a band." Wonpil suddenly states. The surface of his face is blank, but underneath is visible a trembling excitement, and his eyes flicker, needing somewhere to rest.

  
They've left the school building and walked in silence for a minute or two, both headed toward the bus stop.

  
"A– what?"

  
"A band!"

  
Sungjin sighs.

  
"Dude, we're just two people."

  
"Then let's find more people!"

  
"Come off it. Neither of us have time for that. Nor does anyone else."

  
"But it's fun, hyung! And we're killing it!" Wonpil lets his mask drop and a great smile appears. "Oh! What should be our band name? Hm, how about D–"

  
"No, Wonpil. You can fool around all you want, but I'm serious."

  
Sungjin walks on, making Wonpil fall behind.

  
Making him halt.

  
Wonpil gazes at his friend, something little and weak about him. Something that kind of just–

  
shattered.

  
He mumbles the lyrics to the song he was playing earlier, in a quiet whisper, as begins to hurry after.

  
"... why don't you feel it? Imi eolgure ti naldaero nago itneunde~"

  
The song doesn't sound joyous or carefree this time. It sounds depressed and heavy.

  
Wonpil catches up with Sungjin just as they reach the bus stop.

  
"That tune though," Sungjin mumbles, and Wonpil gains his eye contact. "The one you were 'jamming' before. Did you make it up?"

  
Wonpil nods.

  
"Huh. Could have sworn I've heard it before."

  
Wonpil swallows.

  
"I guess it just reminds me of some other..." Sungjin's voice trails off. His eyes have caught something. Wonpil doesn't have to look to see what his hyung is. But he does, anyway.

First he sees the tall, lanky guy with bleached hair and glasses. And beside him, she stands.

  
She has long, black hair and a stunning face. Not perfect but... very close. She's neat, cute, beautiful, petite, slender and when she smiles she shines like the sun. She's all of those things. Everything Wonpil is not.

  
He stares at the ground until the bus arrives, jaw clenched but heart beating slow,

  
hardly at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with this at all, so I might change it later
> 
> I've only just realised, by writing this chapter, that I honestly can't stand too much intensity. It has to be mellow, sublte, hardly even there. I'll do better in the next one. More pointless beating around the bush, more silent angst, more unspoken energies.

"Hey, Drum,"

  
Dowoon looked up to meet his hyung's pondering face.

  
The wind was cold today, and the sun didn't shine at all. As if there was a blue-green filter over the whole city, as if melancholia was the current theme.

  
"Why don't you practice in the music room, here?"

  
Dowoon shot him a meaningful glance.

  
"Ah– the girls."

  
"Mmm, not just that."

  
Younghyun leaned his head to the side.

  
"There's always people in there. It's never empty."

  
"But..." Younghyun hesitated. "Does it matter? I mean, you might make some friends."

  
Dowoon looked down again, lingering on the dull concrete.

  
"I'll join you! Honestly, it could be fun! Actually, I–"

  
Younghyun stopped himself, lowered his voice into a near murmur.

  
"I haven't really told anyone this but–"

  
He took a deep drag of his Marlboro and waited, letting the smoke clear from his lungs as he spoke again.

  
"I play some too. Frankly, I'm trash, but it's fun."

  
"What do you play?"

  
"Bass." Younghyun suddenly made sharp eye contact and wiggled his eyebrows confidently.

  
"Bass." Dowoon echoed. "Should I call you that now, Bass-hyung?"

  
Younghyun cringed. "Please don't."

  
Dowoon smiled, before he continued.

  
"Maybe. If there's no one else in there. It would be cool to see your skills, hyung."

  
Younghyun laughed, just as he was taking another drag, then began coughing uncontrollably.

  
"That really isn't healthy."

  
"No shit, Drum. I was planning on cancer, maybe at 50 or 60."

  
When he saw Dowoon's face, he raised his hands and laughed again.

  
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

  
They sat it silence for a while. Dowoon opened his milk box and sipped it slowly, intently.

  
"Your concern for my health is touching, Drummie." Younghyun said finally, a dramatic palm clinging to his chest. "You wanna go see if the music room is empty after school?"

  
"I have to study."

  
"Let's just check, yeah? Even if it's empty, we still don't have to stick around. Or we could just study in there."

  
Dowoon considered for a moment.

  
"Okay."

  
***

  
Come afternoon, the grey clouds had begun to disperse and rays of sunlight came filling the classrooms and corridors.

Even here, in the music room, the light was beginning to set sideways through the blinds. It made long stripes of shadows, and lit the billions of tiny particles swirling around. They formed a unit that was like colourless smoke, drifting around itself in little galactical patterns.

  
The room was now a cosy mixture of browns, dark reds and oranges.

  
The door handle pushed down, and through the door a head popped in.

  
"Dowoon-ah, it's empty!"

  
A tall boy entered and following him, a shorter one. They looked around the room, taking it in as if it were a sacred place.

  
In the back of the room stood a black electric piano, and beside it a set of drums.

  
On the walls hung acoustic and electric guitars, and farther back–

  
"There you are, baby!"

  
Younghyun hurried forward and lowered one of the basses – a wooden one – from the hangers and threw its shoulder strap around himself. 

  
Younghyun played a groovy intro, fingers dancing on the thick strings, feeling them as if they had healing powers.

  
He kept his eyes shut as he played, missed a few, and chuckled to himself.

  
Dowoon stood watching him, first with a look of curiosity, then with a content smile.

  
Younghyun's eyes fell on him, and he immediately came out of his bubble.

  
"Oh, right. Did you wanna study instead?" He sat down in a chair nearby and rested the instrument on his lap.

  
Dowoon shook his head, setting his bag down and walking slowly toward the drums.

  
"Not yet."

  
Maybe it was the sudden breaking of routine or the beautiful night that made Dowoon braver than he really was, but he was quite buzzing with energy as he sat down on the little leather stool.

  
The drum sticks were neatly laid out on top of the snare, and his hands were quite trembling as they gripped them.

  
"Go, Drum!" Younghyun yelled, but the silence of the surroundings made it sound plain awkward.

  
Dowoon felt his ears heat to a serious degree, but ignored them and took a deep breath.

  
What begun in his mind, flew through his muscles and translated into a fast, tricky beat was none other than jazz. It was a tune he'd heard in a movie and simply could not get enough of. He absolutely hadn't mastered it yet, but from the look on Younghyun's face – he might as well have.

  
He was sweating when he stopped, and put his hand on the cymbal he'd just abused. The resonance cut off immidiately, but silence did not have time to enter before a little applause did.

  
"Yoon Dowoon! What the hell, dude! You're wicked!"

  
Dowoon's ears and cheeks and everything had turned scarlet; partly from the excercise, and partly from the realisation of what he'd just done.

  
"No, I'm–"

  
"A fuckin' legend, that's what!"

  
"Stop it, hyung." Dowoon's voice wa low and embarassed. "I'm really not that good."

  
"Fuck your opinion, I say you're savage!"

  
Dowoon stared at him. He opened his mouth to protest but–

  
nothing came out. So he closed it again.

  
"You better make it into a career or something, Drum."

  
Dowoon smiled, talking to the floor.

  
"If I fail school because I didn't study enough," Dowoon said, changing the topic. "I guess I'll have to."

  
Younghyun shook his head.

  
"Yeah, yeah, get your textbook then."

  
***

  
Dowoon kept shooting glances toward his hyung as they sat, noses pointing down into the books.

  
He tried to eliminate the haunting urge to grin, but his mental strength betrayed him.

  
And when he tried to focus his eyes on the text, another sort of smile came upon him. His heart was beating almost as quick as the song he'd played.

  
"Thank you, hyung." his voice said, suddenly.

  
Younghyun looked up, disoriented.

  
"What?"

  
"For saying those things. Thank you."

  
"Oh. Well," Younghyun shrugged happily. "it's just the truth."

Dowoon smiled into his book, still hot and weirdly dizzy.

"Hyung,"

"Hm?"

"When you played..."

Dowoon didn't meet his hyung's eyes. Not daring.

"... when you played, it was... it was..."

Then he did. There was a fire burning deep inside them. Black, but burning.

"You're wicked, hyung."

And if that wasn't a light blush on Younghyun's stupidly grinning face, Dowoon didn't know what to call it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yah, I'm going mental. This is still not good enough? It just doesn't keep the standards the first chapters had. It's too eventful, to many things being said! But whatever, I'll edit it later maybe. Or redo it. We'll see.

Younghyun lay the grass, gazing up into the endless void.

  
"Call anytime, call anytime~"

  
He sang in a happy falsetto, every now and then taking a deep drag and pausing, sometimes smiling.

  
"Every night, every day~"

  
"Hyung–"

  
Younghyun bent his head up, backward, and saw an upside-down world contouring a silhouette.

  
"Drum!"

  
He sat up, turning to face his dongsaeng, the cigrette pinched between his fingers gracing the grass lightly.

  
Dowoon stood frozen, staring as if seen a ghost. 

  
"What?"

  
"You– you can sing?"

  
"Well, duh?"

  
Dowoon faced down, an aura around him. An aura of wanting to speak, wanting to find the words–

  
Younghyun chuckled.

  
"Wait, how long were you–"

  
"Hyung, your voice–" Dowoon kept his eyes on the ground, face blank but burning up. "Your voice– uh, your voice is..."

  
"Yah, don't get all soppy on me now. Come sit!"

  
Dowoon did as he was told, laying beside hos hyung in the park.

  
"Uhh... why did you ask me to meet you so late?" he said after a moment's silence.

  
"Becaaauuse..." Younghyun gestured toward the sky. "Look!"

Dowoon did.

  
Little dots of white were dabbed all over the pitch black canvas of space.

  
"It's been like this for three nights!" There was a feeling like limerence in Younghyun's voice, gazing into the endlessness and sighing as deep in love.

  
Dowoon's eyes flickered between his friend and the stars. As if he did not know which one to look at; as if they were the same thing.

  
Then he stared straight up, soaking it in.

  
Younghyun shuffled a little beside him.

  
"Man, this hat is so uncomfortable–"

  
"Cassiopeia."

  
Younghyun looked at Dowoon, who was looking up.

  
"... pardon?"

  
"Cassiopeia." Dowoon pointed.

  
Younghyun followed his finger with his eyes.

  
"Oh. The constellation?"

  
"Mhm."

  
Dowoon pointed to their left. "Big Dipper."

  
"The one that looks like a cart-thingy?"

  
Dowoon nodded.

  
Younghyun's eyes traced the lined up stars, awe across his face.

  
"You can see Little Dipper, too. But some stars are dim. You have to look at the black space inbetween to see them all."

  
"What, why? That doesn't make sense."

  
Dowoon smiled.

  
"They're shy."

  
Younghyun burst out in light laughter.

  
"You're a huge nerd, ain't ya!"

  
"No." Dowoon said. "I just... like space."

  
"Who doesn't? Everyone gets philosophical looking at this stuff. I mean, people have been stargazing for like a thousand–"

  
"Hyung, shhh... just... wait. Look."

  
Younghyun opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out and he remained silent.

  
They lay there for a long while, Younghyun shuffling his body a few times.

  
At last, he sighed, and began:

  
"Hey, Dowoon, did–"

  
"There."

  
The same time Dowoon said it, Younghyun saw it out of the corner of his eye.

  
"It fell! The fuckin' star fell!"

  
"Yup."

  
"How are you not impressed?! An acutal shooting star!"

  
"They do that all the time. You just have to wait."

  
"No way. Really?" Younghyun looked perplexed. "But everyone always say it's so damn special?"

  
"It is special, because no one has time to look. But its common."

  
"That's depressing. We ought to make wishes."

  
"Mm."

  
Younghyun closed his eyes for a while, just breathing. Dowoon kept his on the view.

  
Finally, Younghyun hummed.

  
"Do you sing, Drum?"

  
"No."

  
"Why?"

  
"I'm not a good singer."

  
"I don't believe that."

  
"You don't have to."

  
Younghyun was silenced, wordless.

  
"And... it was not really a star that fell. It's just space junk."

  
"What is this mood you're in?" Younghyun's voice turned into a serious whisper. "Are you depressed, Yoon Dowoon?"

  
The latter could not hold his laughter at that time. His voice rollercoastered up and down in deep and bright chuckles, and his hands hovered above his mouth, ready to put the lid on.

  
Younghyun chuckled warmly at his friend, eyes full of something both amused and content.

  
In galaxies far, far away the same stars burned passionately as their light shot out into the universe. Cold planets were being swung across it, being dragged by gravity in an endless orbit. And somewhere in that universe, on a little, blue planet, two boys were being pushed down, pulled toward the core.

  
And yet, none of that seemed to bother them. At least not right now, when they were in each others' midst.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok this is _fine_ but... I guess a plot happened?? Kinda?
> 
> Idk anymore
> 
> Everything I care about is atmosphere

Back and forth,

  
back, then forth,

  
back,–

  
"Wonpil-ah! Kim Wonpil!"

  
Thump!

  
"Ahh..."

  
Wonpil lies flat on his back in the sand, wincing as though he might cry. Seeing the sky, buildings rising toward it and the bar he just fell from. All of them sort of... spinning?

  
He sits himself up with his hands, and massages the back of his head.

  
"Wonpil– the hell are you doing?"

  
Sungjin jogs to his friend, crouching to inspect him, a serious look on his face.

  
"Are you hurt?"

  
"Uh, no..." Wonpil smiles awkwardly, embarassed. "I don't think so."

  
Sungjin searches his face, digging for clues.

  
"Hyung, I'm– I'm fine!" Wonpil stumbles to his feet and initiates brushing his clothes off, carefully. He grimaces; sand has somehow slithered into the white shirt and settled across his skin. He twists and folds and shakes in an attempt to rid himself of it.

  
Sungjin's face breaks into a grin, and he chuckles.

  
"Come on, we're gonna be late. I was looking for you,"

  
Sungjin strides off as he speaks. Wonpil moves to follow, but is abruptly struck with memory. He glances around, eyes keen and searching. Looking for–

  
There.

  
Something soft and adorable lies, almost buried, just where he had landed.

  
_Hanging by his legs upside down, playing with it, watching it swing from his finger, savouring its cuteness._

  
_Pink and blue with buttons for eyes and a pair of long ears. Soft, alien and pointless. Somehow, a little piece of himself._

  
Wonpil quickly snatches the little keychain from the sand, shooting forth a panicked glance, before he pockets it and paces after.

  
***

  
"You're so weird, Wonpillie." Sungjin shakes his head as they enter their classroom. "What were you doing out there? Didn't you see my messages?"

  
"Oh– no... I was..." Wonpil follows his hyung to their seats. "... meditating?"

  
"You've done no such thing in your life."

  
"Well, I dunno... I was just thinking."

  
"Thinking?" Sungjin's voice is he lays his bag on the desk and sits. Wonpil joins his side.

  
"I guess. I just... felt like being there, then."

  
"Weirdo." His tone is mean but his eyes warm.

  
The lesson passes slowly, clock ticking one second at a time.

  
Sungjin shoots glances at his crush every five minutes. Wonpil shoots glances of his own.

  
The girl sits by her friend, the tall bespectacled guy, and they whisper as they work.

  
The lazy bad boy sits at the very back of the classroom with his phone up, visibly not interested in what the teacher has to say.

  
The quiet rich kid with all those fan girls is sleeping.

  
Everything is as it always is. Wonpil is watching everyone, observing their manners and their habits, tilting his head at certain things and smiling at others. Pouting at some.

  
He knows everyone. But no one knows him, apart from Sungjin.

  
Wonpil swiftly returns to his body as the teacher calls his name.

  
"Yes, seonsaengnim!" He rises, and quietly scurries forward.

  
***

  
What may seem like eternities later, the soft sounds of a piano and guitar being played together resonates throughout the evening sun-lit corridor.

  
Following the melody to its origin, one will soon be met with an image of two boys deeply immersed – yet somehow relaxed – in the creation of their music.

  
"Wait," one of them suddenly says, and the tune echoes into an end. He reads closely, finger following the notes on the sheet.

  
"That wasn't right. I'll try again, from the chorus."

  
They keep practicing, keep trying. Until it's nearly perfect. Nearly.

  
"This is a really good song." Sungjin observes the paper. "I've never heard it before."

  
"It's not a famous song..." Wonpil looks down.

  
"Hipster." His friend smiles.

  
"Hey, I like mainstream stuff too!"

  
"Poser."

  
Wonpil just smiles, just accepts.

  
Then, out of nowhere, the door opens with a creak.

  
Now, one is met with the image of three boys proceeding to exchange quite telling looks; two are surprised bordering on curious, while one is utterly horrified.

  
"Oh–"

  
"Hello." Sungjin starts. "Uh, did you–"

  
"You're in our class." Wonpil interrupts promptly. "You're the sleepy one."

  
"Uh–"

  
Wonpil and Sunjin exchange a quick glance among themselves.

  
"Did you need something?"

  
"No." The boy replies. "I'll be leaving."

  
"But–"

  
The door closes hastily. The room is silent.

  
"Yoon Dowoon." Wonpil states.

  
"What?"

  
"That's his name."

  
"Huh. And you scared him off, Wonpilie."

  
"I think he's shy." Wonpil shrugs. "Maybe he wanted to join."

  
"You think he plays?"

  
"Yeah! He carries drumsticks with him."

  
"How can you know that?"

  
"They're always in his bag. He takes them out sometimes."

  
"Really."

  
Wonpil keeps his eyes on the door for a second longer.

  
"Yeah. Definitely shy."

  
"You kidding? Isn't he the one with all the fangirls? Shy my ass. Seems like a prick to me."

  
"We don't know that."

  
"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it." Sungjin turns his attention to his black Martin and starts plucking a fine little melody.

  
Wonpil tilts his head at the door.

  
_Yoon Dowoon. Were you hoping for the room to be empty?_

  
He scratches the back of his neck and turns to the keys. Listens to his friend play, finds the tempo, then joins in.


End file.
